


Boxer

by collectingstories



Category: Daredevil (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Boxing, F/M, Fight Club - Freeform, fluff ending, friends that should be lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-28
Updated: 2018-12-28
Packaged: 2019-09-29 11:04:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17202320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/collectingstories/pseuds/collectingstories
Summary: Based on a prompt from Tumblr: you two are good friends and you are an illegal underground boxer and he gets mad that you get hurt but your like says the man running around hells kitchen every night. Maybe something fluffy or angsty. Have a good day!





	Boxer

**Author's Note:**

> Hopefully this is good.

You sat on the counter, holding a frozen bag of peas against your eye as you took another sip of your water bottle. This was not how your Saturday night was supposed to go, not that your Saturdays had been typically normal in a while. Matt was in his room, getting you a clean change of clothes while you stared out the window and thought about the impending conversation you and he were bound to have when he returned. Based on the way he wouldn’t speak to you as he brought you home, you suspected you were not in for a comfortable night of drinking and listening to music. 

It was about ten Saturdays ago, when you were leaving Fogwells after a morning training session that a guy approached you outside. You had never seen him before in the gym but he seemed to know you. Because he called you by name and mentioned that he’d seen you in a match over the previous weekend. 

“That last punch…whoa.” He immitated the motion of quick stepping and undercutting someone with a left hook. Exactly the move you’d done just a week ago.

“Yeah thanks.” You nodded, shaking your head to throw a braid over your shoulder and adjusting your bag strap. 

“No problem…listen,” He started to talk, leaning against your car door so that you couldn’t open it.

“I’m not really dating right now.” You replied. It was a common occurrence after matches and you assumed that was his intention with the way he leaned in when he spoke.

“Nah sweetheart, I don’t wanna date you. Though,” he did a once over and you grimaced at him. “Nah, nah. What I wanted was…you wanna make a little extra cash on the side?”

“How?” You asked, narrowing your eyes at him, trying to figure his angle.

“I know a place that hosts tournaments…less straight boxing and more MMA but, you could earn some serious cash up front.”

“You’re talking about a fight club.” You replied.

“Yeah, guess I am.” He shrugged, smiling at you, “so?”

“How much money?” You asked, thinking of the school debts you still had and the shithole of an apartment that you were currently living in. A third of the winnings you got from the matches you did now went back into Fogwells and the part time job you were trying to balance at the garage wasn’t cutting it on bills lately.

The man reached into his pocket, pulling out a wad of cash rolled and tied with a band. He handed it to you and you thumbed through it, realizing it was all hundred dollar bills. In cash. You hadn’t seen that much money since your last tax return. “That’s a little upfront taste. So, what’d you say?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, stuffing the money in your gym bag. “yeah alright.” 

So you started going to fights on the weekends, either down by the docks or in an abandoned building where people wouldn’t know what was happening. It was true what Chuck Palahniuk had said, the first rule of fight club was that no one talked about fight club. Most of the men and women who fought where like ghosts to you. You only saw them on fight nights and then, despite most of them living in Hell’s Kitchen with you, none of you ever seemed to run into each other. It was tough at first, the rules were more like suggestions and sometimes it felt like they were trying to kill you not just spar with you. As time went on you grew more comfortable in the matches, easing into your own rhythm for fights and, most of the time, coming out on top. 

Tonight had been different though. A newcomer to the underground, who seemed like he was tripping out on something, went berserk during your fight. You held your own for the first three rounds but then in fourth you lost your footing as he took you down. He climbed on top of you and tried to punch you furiously as you blocked your face from the attack. It wasn’t until a shout from one of the watchmen at the door sounded and people started to disperse that you were saved from the onslaught. It wasn’t the police that had found the fight club in the abandoned building, it was the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen. That’s what you gathered from shouts among the crowd and next thing you knew the man on top of you was being thrown to the ground. 

Somehow between then and now you’d ended up in Matt’s apartment, sitting on the counter holding a pack of peas to your face as he undressed in the next room. Everything had been a blur of people and the police had shown up as you were fleeing the scene. 

“You want to tell me what you were thinking?” Matt said, coming into the room.

“Don’t really think I owe an explanation to the guy who dresses up in a costume and goes around fighting criminals.” You replied. 

“I have protection and I know what I’m doing.”

“Oh that’s right, cause the last ten years I’ve spent boxing mean nothing.” You commented, laying the impromptu ice pack on your knee so that you could have a clear view of Matt. 

He stood in the living room, the light from the neon sign shining through the window on him and highlighting his features. You knew all about his heightened senses and his being Daredevil but you weren’t sure how he managed to know that it was you there on the ground. 

“That’s not what I mean.” He replied.

“How’d you know I was there anyway.” You asked, “your crazy senses tell you I was in the building.”

“I’ve known for a couple of weeks that you were fighting. I’ve been keeping an eye on it.”

You snorted at the metaphor, “oh cool, so Daredevil is stalking me now.”

“I was worried about you getting in over your head. And obviously I was right to be.”

“No, obviously you were being overprotective. I’m perfectly capable of handling myself in a sitaution Matt. I had it under control.”

“He wasn’t gonna stop and none of those people in there were going to stop him either.” He snapped. He knew it wasn’t right to spy on you like that but he’d been worried when he first realized what it was you were spending your weekends doing. How was he supposed to keep you safe when you were intentionally putting yourself in harm’s way.

“I had it under control.” You repeated, sliding off the counter. “I need the extra money, things have been tight right now and it was some good side income. And I don’t need you watching out for me.”

Matt sighed and ran a hand through his hair, “I know how good you are. I know you don’t need me to watch your back. But I’ve been up front with you about everything and I need you to be up front with me too. I’m allowed to worry about you, especially when you’re putting yourself in harms way. And not telling me.”

“I didn’t tell you cause I knew you’d be pissed.” You sighed, some of the anger you were feeling diffusing because of Matt’s earnest apology. You watched Matt visibly relax as he realized your emotions had changed. You were less tense. “I don’t want you to underestimate me or treat me like I need saving all the time.”

“I know you don’t. But, thinking about you getting injured when I knew I could save you…this isn’t me saying your weak or need me it’s me saying I care about you and don’t want to lose you.” He replied. 

“But don’t you think I feel the same way about you every time you put on that mask and go out there. I know the same things about you Matt, I know you can take care of yourself but every time you come back bruised or bloody I can’t help the sinking feeling that I’m letting you kill yourself.” You said. “More than needing money this was a way to work out that frustration. I hate that there is nothing I can do for you.” 

Matt reached out for you, pulling you against him in a hug. You wrapped your arms around his waist, pressing your cheek to his shoulder. Matt ran a hand through your hair and kissed your forehead. “Being here.” He said, “being here when I come home is enough.”

“Not if you don’t come home.” You replied. 

“I’m sorry. Not for breaking up the fight but for making you feel like you couldn’t tell me.” He said. 

“You have so much on your plate Matt and I didn’t want you to feel like there was anything else you needed to worry about. Especially not me.” You pulled away enough to look at him, laying your hand against his cheek. He leaned into the touch.

“I worry about you if you’re just sitting on the couch. But I trust you. Those two things are not mutually exclusive to each other.” He said. “But I can’t trust you when you lie to me.”

“I wasn’t lying. I just…was omitting the truth.”

“You know I’m a lawyer right?” Matt laughed. “If you want to spar, spar with me. And if you don’t wanna spar with me, keep it legal? I spent too long patching up my dad…I don’t want the same thing to happen to you.” 

“It won’t.”

“Tonight? It could have.” He replied. 

“Hey,” You held his face in your hands, looking into his eyes as he stared just beyond your line of vision. “We’ll come home to each other.”


End file.
